Can you make me feel special?
by Madam Mimm
Summary: Half cannon Lucy the Slut point of view. Really just exploring her side of the Avenue Q story. Some language, infers sexual conduct. Not sure how long this will go on for, might be a few chapters, might be a lot.
1. Chapter 1

Her ruby red lips were opened as she carefully stretched her long, dark eyelashes with the aid of heavy mascara. She blinked twice at her reflection in the mirror, before smoothing a long strand of blonde hair so it fell seductively into her cleavage. "Dear God..." She muttered, a pleased, almost sadistic smile stretching across her face. "I am almost too hot." Her deep, almost purring Texan accent lilted into the blue skies and shining sun that graced the air above New York, which shone oblivious to the clouds of pollution, grease and rust that poured from exhaust pipes and did their best to obscure it.

"Lucy!" There was a harsh grunt from another room, and Lucy rolled her eyes. Straightening her low-cut, sequined red halter top, she strutted from her room. The front room was in a similar state of squalor to her own bedroom; clothes, dirty dishes, old papers and general trash littering unclean floors and untidy couches. There was no TV, and very little of any other electrical equipment. There was a phone, but that had been cut off for about three months now. Standing by the front door, leering around her apartment, was a fat, balding man with dry, broken skin and a face that was simultaneously yellowed with tobacco smoke, reddened from alcohol and greyed with years of grime and poor health. A stained, faded shirt covered a vast expense of hair and flab, whilst equally stained and worn Bermuda shorts half hid under his disgusting over-hanging belly, yet didn't have the decency to cover his legs which were scarred and hairy. To be fair, they were strained to breaking-point just covering his gigantic ass, but there was no excuse for the thick once-white socks that peeped between his sandal-straps. From head to toe, the man was repulsive.

"Whaddaya want, Clyde?" Lucy sneered, rummaging in a pile of laundry for her handbag.

"Jeez Lucy, this place is a sty..."

"Like I'm ever here to care about it." She shrugged, finding her silver sequined handbag and rooting through piles of crap on the counter to find her lipstick, her cell and her keys. "Now what the hell are you bothering a li'l old thing like me for at this time of day?"

"I sent Jasper to get your rent." Clyde growled, his beady eyes snapping back to her. "Which is overdue." Lucy shifted her weight to one hip, bit her lip and batted her eyes at him, running the long strand of hair around her fingers.

"Gee, Clyde, he told me I'd sorted him out good and proper."

"And I don't doubt it for a second. But you didn't actually pay him, did you?"

"Oh, give me a break." She snapped, dropping the flirtatious pose and continuing to rummage for her belongings. She didn't understand how a man so repugnant could afford to turn anyone down, even an easy ride like her. "I'll pay you soon, okay?" She muttered, placing her recovered belongings in her purse.

"How soon?" Clyde growled, looking at her with suspicion.

"When I get the money, ok?" And with that, she left, not giving him a chance to answer back.

She strutted over the broken paving slabs and behind the upturned trash-cans that littered the sidewalk of Avenue S, fury quietly brooding behind her customary pout. She had had the growing feeling lately that her life was a crock of shit. She couldn't even drum up the money to live in Avenue S, one of the most disgusting parts of the city. The Avenue was dominated by High School drop outs and drug-addicts, and had been best described as "almost better than being homeless". She'd tried working, but she didn't have the "correct qualifications". And no way was she going to be some no-life grease-monkey at MacDonalds. She let her feet guide her on her familiar path, all the way around Avenue S, then down to Avenue T, and back up towards Avenue Q. She didn't pay much attention to her surroundings, it was all so routine by now she could do it in her sleep. Strut her path, pose on the street corners, look suggestive... She often gained catty glares from women she passed, but she'd stopped caring years ago. She'd tried working, she'd tried school, she'd tried being unemployed. None of it worked, so she had to sell something. And there was only one thing that she could always sell and always have more of to give. Was it nice? No. Was it a good thing to be doing? Probably not. Did she enjoy doing it? Well... there are worse ways to make money. Besides, she served society just us much as the bureaucrats she was hired by. The difference was, she was honest about who she screwed and how.

As she strutted up to Avenue Q, the mid-morning sun bouncing off her curls, she wondered whether she'd be able to find anyone to pay off her rent by the evening. Then, a wicked smile on her glistening red lips, her eyes fell on Trekkie Monster's window. She knew it was his; it was the only one with curtains still drawn. Rearranging her cleavage, she stood underneath his window, making sure he'd get the best possible view.

"Trekkie..." She called out, tapping her foot patiently. "Trekkie..."

"WHAT?" Came the annoyed grunt, as there was crashing within and the curtains were thrown back. "Who- ooohhhhhh..." The sound made a guttural growl in his throat, laced with laughter that sounded like a backed-up garbage disposal.

"And how is my number one friend this morning?" Lucy purred, bobbing her weight up and down on one hip so that she bounced a little as he stared at her. "Are you busy?"

"That... depends..." The Monster looked around behind him, a little guilty.

"I was wondering if I could ask a little favour of you... you know, you scratch my back..." she fixed him with her big, bedroom eyes. "I'll... scratch... yours."

Again the gurgling pipe laugh, and Trekkie jumped back into his apartment. There was a metallic "Buzz" as she was admitted to enter, and she strutted upstairs, wondering what her Rent money was worth in terms Trekkie could understand. Maybe she'd get off light, and he'd just want her to reconstruct some moments from "Girls Gone Wild". She had to hand it to him, he had one heck of an imagination.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy rolled her eyes as she reapplied her makeup in the tiny, grotty bathroom of Trekkie's apartment.

"Luuu-cyyyyy..." His voice set her on edge, and she grimaced at her reflection in the stained, grimy mirror. Monsters shouldn't try to purr. "You not gonna go so soon, are you?"

"Uh, yeah." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair and throwing a final pout in the mirror. She took a deep breath, and threw open the bathroom door. Trekkie was still slouched over the bed, his shaggy fur clumped with sweat. Yuck. She shot him a smile, before grabbing her purse and making for the front door.

"No kiss goodbye?"

"I'm not your girlfriend, Trekkie." Her voice had lost all the syrupy smoothness it had had when she spoke to him before.

"Fine, fine, alright..." Trekkie grunted and sighed as he heaved himself to his feet, stumbling across the small square room to a computer desk covered in magazines, remnants of slowly festering fast-food, and odd stains, all of dubious content. "How much for another kiss?"

"Trekkie!" She clipped smartly across the room in her heels, and slapped him around the face. "Now you get this straight, I may come to you for money or a place to stay and I may do certain... favours... but I ain't your whore, you got that?"

Trekkie looked at her, his shaggy eyebrows narrowed first in confusion, and then raised in a mocking question.

"No, Lucy, no no no." He smirked, laying a heavy, hairy hand on her shoulder. "You not my whore. You eeeeverybody's whore!"

"Piss off..." Lucy growled, but he'd already thrown himself back down on the bed, as if she wasn't there. She was angry. She was furious. But she was proud... and ashamed... that didn't matter. She tossed her head back and strutted out, down onto the street. It took her that long to start feeling guilty, too. Sure, Trekkie was a pervert, but he was the closest thing she had to a friend. In reality he was little more than a fan-boy, but she needed all the support she could get. Quietly, she slipped back inside the building, reached into her purse and pinned a lurid pink flyer to the notice board. Silently, she left again. As she walked onto the street, she heard music drifting from inside the old apartment. So, it had been rented. Shame. She'd thought about moving into that one herself if she sold off some of her shoes. Ah well...

She looked at her watch, and then looked again as she realised she'd failed to register the time. What Trekkie said had really annoyed her. She was an escort, not a whore. She took men places and made them happy. Sex was not in the contract... although she had to admit that it usually ended that way, thanks to her... what was it about her? Every time she went out with a guy it ended in sex?

"Ugh." She sighed.

"Oh... uh..." She turned at the sound of Brian's voice. He stood awkwardly on the step by his door, with a bulging bag of trash in his hands. He was staring at her like she was hunched over a piece of road-kill with a bottle of ketchup.

"Hi Brian." She smiled, trying to break him from his frozen state.

"Uh... hi, Lucy... uh... just taking out the trash..." HE smiled weakly, and shook the black sack at her, making that mysterious liquid known only as "Garbage juice" leak over his loafers with an overpowering smell of egg. Lucy held back a giggle as he started hopping around, avoiding the leaking bag.

"Aw, shit... I knew I shoulda done the recyclables first... Lucy, look..." As he looked back at her, she snapped back to her trademark enigmatic pout. He stumbled down the stairs, dumping the bag in amongst the trash cans. "I'd love to talk, but... Christmas Eve doesn't like me talking to you, so I'm just gonna..." He trailed off, pointing back towards the door.

"Calm down, Brian, I'm not looking for business." She rolled her eyes as she saw his shoulders relax slightly. "And I'm not looking for money or a place to stay. I'm just passing through."

"Oh..." Brian smiled awkwardly, before shrugging. "Cool. How you been?"

"Not bad. Trying to get myself a new career. You got a new neighbour?" She motioned to the apartment that had previously been vacant. Brian nodded, smiling.

"Oh yeah, that's Princeton, he moved in yesterday. I've been helping him move some boxes; he's an ok kid, straight out of college."

"And straight into the gutter." Lucy sighed, raising an eyebrow at the apartment.

"Hey, don't be like that Lucy. This is only a temporary place for him."

"Just like you?"

"Well... yeah..."

"Just like you were saying ten years ago?"

"You know, you can be a real buzz-kill sometimes."

"Wow..." Lucy let herself smile slightly as Brian walked back to his door. "First time I've ever been called that."

"See you, Lucy." He chuckled. Lucy suddenly snapped back to the present, reaching into her purse.

"Oh, Brian!" She handed a few of the lurid pink flyers to him. "Can you hand some of these around for me? Pretty please?" She smiled and batted her eyelids as he read the flyer with raised eyebrows.

"Tonight at the Around The Clock Cafe- Lucy "The Slut" Stephano sings for your pleasure." He looked at her, very uncomfortable. "Lucy "The Slut"? Is that really the image you want to be using for your new career?"

"Well, everyone knows me by that name anyway." She shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "Besides, Mom always said I should stick to what I know. Face it Brian, showbiz is just the same as escorting; you're making people feel good about themselves at the cost of your privacy and for a lot of money." Brian gave her a long look, before sighing.

"Alright... ok, I'll hand them out. I'm still good enough as an opening act, I take it?"

"It's your evening, Brian. I just want people to know I'm there." She smiled, patting him on the cheek, before walking off. Just as she left the avenue, she heard voices behind her having an argument about racism. Whatever. Even if she was an escort, she was an equal opportunity escort.

Lucy continued to head up to the city, casually making her way to the Around the Clock cafe, counting her lucky stars that Brian had got her a slot to perform. He'd heard her doing amateur singing, and had some kind of connections through a comedy master-class or something... However he'd done it, he'd managed to get the manager of the club to book her for a one night act. It may not be much, but t was a start. Brian was sweet, but she knew he was ashamed of being seen with her, especially since he got engaged to that fussy Asian cow of a girlfriend... damn, maybe she was racist...

Lucy found the club, and wandered inside, asking the girl who was sweeping the floor where the manager was. She was directed down a hallway at the side of the stage, past two restrooms, a cloakroom and a shady looking water-fountain, until she saw the green door with "Manager" crudely stencilled onto it. Knocking smartly, Lucy took a deep breath. The manager admitted her, and he was revealed to be an aging, balding man with a stern, square face. He looked up at her, and his eyebrows continued to rise. She explained that she was the singer, and that "The Slut" was part of a stage persona. He said he understood and that if she wanted a rehearsal to acclimatise herself to the stage and lighting, then he could get someone to help her out before the doors opened in an hour and a half. All whilst his beady, black eyes were fixed firmly on her cleavage. "Who said men can't multi-task?" She thought, as she thanked the manager and left him, his beady eyes, balding head and nasally, whining voice behind her.

She stood on the stage, the microphone shaking in her hands as she winced from a vicious scream of feedback.

"Sorry!" The girl who had been sweeping the floor now sat backstage, behind a large board of switches and dials which controlled sound and lighting. She smiled kindly. "I didn't know you were planning on moving around so much."

"Is that a problem?"

"It might be if you walk in front of the amps without telling me."

"Oh... ok..." Lucy gripped the microphone tighter, taking a deep breath.

"Is this your first time?" The girl smiled, looking up from her switchboard.

"Ironically..." Lucy let herself smile. "Yeah..."


End file.
